Sorceress of Darshiva

aren't very good at turning around in a hurry. I'll confront him head-on. You run in behind him and hamstring him. You know how to do that?"
    That knowledge was instinctive in wolves, and Garion found, almost with surprise, that he knew precisely what to do. "Yes," he replied. The speech of wolves is limited in its emotional range, so he could not indicate how uncomfortable this impending encounter made him.
    "All right," Belgarath continued, "once you cut his hamstrings, get back out of the range of his teeth. He'll try to turn on you. That's instinctive, so he won't be able to stop himself. That's when I'll take his throat."
    Garion shuddered at the deliberateness of the plan. Belgarath was proposing not a fight, but a cold-blooded killing. "Let's get it over with, Grandfather," he said unhappily.
    "Don't whine, Garion," Belgarath's thought came to him. "He'll hear you."
    "I don't like this," Garion thought back.
    "Neither do I, but it's the only thing we can do. Let's go." They crept among the fog-dimmed tree trunks with the smell of the Hound growing stronger in their nostrils. It was not a pleasant smell, since dogs will eat carrion, while wolves will not. Then Garion saw the Hound outlined black against the fog beyond the edge of the trees. Belgarath paused, indicating that he also saw their intended victim. Then the two wolves separated and moved in the slow, deliberate pace of the hunt, setting each paw carefully and noiselessly down on the damp forest loam.
    It was over in a shockingly short time. The Hound screamed once when Garion's fangs ripped the tendons of his hind legs, but the scream died into a hideous rattling gurgle as Belgarath's jaws closed on his throat. The huge black body twitched a few times with its front paws scratching convulsively at the dirt. Then it shuddered and went limp. The dead Hound blurred peculiarly, and then there was a Grolim lying on the ground before them with his throat torn out.
    "I didn't know they did that," Garion said, fighting down a surge of revulsion.
    "Sometimes they do." Then Belgarath sent out his thought. "It's clear now, Pol. Tell Durnik to bring them on through."
    As dawn turned the fog opalescent, they took shelter in a ruined village. There had been a wall around it, and part of it was still standing. The houses had been made of stone. Some were still more or less intact—except for the roofs. Others had been tumbled into the narrow streets. In places, smoke still rose from the shattered debris.
    "I think we can risk a fire," Durnik suggested, looking at the smoke.
    Polgara looked around. "A hot breakfast wouldn't hurt," she agreed. "It might be some time before we get another chance for one. Over there, I think," she added, "in what's left of that house."
    "In just a moment, Durnik," Belgarath said. "I'll need you to translate for me."
    He looked at Toth. "'I assume you know how to get to Kell from here?" he asked the huge mute.
    Toth shifted the unbleached wool blanket he wore draped over one shoulder and nodded.
    "In Melcena, we heard that Kell has been sealed off," the old man continued. "Will they let us through?"
    Toth made a series of those obscure gestures.
    "He says that there won't be any problem—as long as Cyradis is still at Kell," Durnik translated. "She'll instruct the other seers to let us through."
    "She's there, then?" Belgarath asked.
    The gestures came more rapidly.
    "I didn't quite follow that," Durnik told his friend.
    Toth gestured again, slower this time.
    Durnik frowned. "This is a little complicated, Belgarath," he said. "As closely as I can make out what he says, she's there and yet not there at the same time—sort of the way she was when we saw Zandramas that time. But she's also there and not there in several other places as well—and in several different times."
    "That's a neat trick," Beldin said. "Did he tell you where these other places and times are?"
    "No. I think he'd rather not."
    "We can respect that," Belgarath said.
    "It doesn't diminish the curiosity, though," Beldin said. He brushed a few twigs out of his beard, then pointed at the sky. "I'm going up there," he added. "I think we ought to know how far this fog extends and what we're likely to run into once we get past it." He stopped, spread his arms, shimmered, and swooped away.
    Durnik led the way into the ruined house and built a small fire in the fireplace while Silk and Sadi prowled through the shattered village. After a short while they returned with a